Liar
by AllItTakes
Summary: Don Flack had never lied to himself about his feelings for a girl - either he likes her or doesn't like her. Then she came along.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI:NY or any of its characters, just my OC.

If anyone was ever unfortunate enough to walk into the police precinct with the sole purpose of talking to those old, retired blue bloods that are always milling about the water cooler, they would learn exactly two things. One: the coffee here tastes like old dishwater but they still drink it. Two: they love to chat about their partners. For instance:

". . . so then Higgs turns and just looks at me and says, 'Joe, you have got to be the most stupidest bastard I know' and then just leaves me with all the paperwork!" the retired NYPD legend, Joe McDonald would say, complaining about his partner yet again, David Higgs. McDonald and Higgs have been partners for decades and were still arguing on the fair divide of their endless mountains of paperwork.

"I know what you mean," Nathan Colley, first grade detective in Vice, would reply. "Jill and I always try to split the paperwork but sometimes she ditches on me." Nathan and Jill had been assigned to be partners after the Chief realized Colley was too reckless to be left by himself and needed a feminine influence to balance out his hot blooded enthusiasm. Now Nathan and Jill were so used to each other, they could practically read each other's thoughts.

"Paperwork," the assistant prosecutor, George Hackberry, would scoff. "That's what paralegals are for, although if anybody has the model partnership here, it'd be Taylor and Bonasera. They've been together for, what, ten years?"

Those old dogs would nod emphatically and gradually move on to other topics like how the media never seemed to cast a favorable light on them, or if the mayor would finally streamline their funding this year. The point is, anyone who's been working law enforcement long enough and has half a brain, would agree that is important, no, scratch that, _imperative_, that you make a good first impression on your partner.

Well, Detective Don Flack knew in the first two seconds that he wasn't gonna hit it off with his new partner anytime soon. Running a hand along the back of his neck, he tried to help the petite woman back up to her feet.

He had been hurrying toward the precinct after exiting his cab, his nose buried in a case file, cup of coffee gripped in one hand, when he had felt someone crash into him. They had collided head on. The woman, being lighter and smaller than him, had been the one to end up sprawled on the ground. Needless to say, she was not a happy camper, especially with hot coffee spilled on her front and papers scattered around her.

Blowing out an exasperated breath, he tried to apologize while picking up papers at the same time. "Listen, I'm sorry. I'm Don Flack. You're the transfer, right? The one from LA?" They had all been warned that they would be receiving a third grade Homicide detective transferring over from California this morning.

"Yep. Lily Prescott, I'm your new partner," said the newcomer, a petite young woman dressed in dark-wash jeans and a scoop neck blouse, picking up her bag that had ended up a few feet away in the commotion. Flack finally turned around to focus his attention on his new partner and felt his eye _widen_.

Haunting good looks. Willowy figure. Caramel colored hair. Smoky grey eyes.

Smoky grey eyes that were currently glaring daggers at him, eyes that snapped to his in a way that told him she was a no-bullshit kind of woman, the kind that would take more than a pair of deep ocean-blue eyes to impress. _If looks could kill..._

Flack began picking up the files that he had dropped, trying not to stare at the slinky figure of the brunette as she bent down to help. "So, Lily, have you met Mac Taylor yet?"

"I will in a few minutes," the brunette looked down at her soiled sweater, "after I change."

Smiling charmingly, he used the grin that had stopped half the female population of the 34th precinct in their tracks. The one that always made women flirt back and trust him. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. It really is my fault."

"I'm aware of that, detective." Lily raised an eyebrow, brushing past him to the locker rooms and not bothering to give him a second glance, leaving Flack completely speechless.

"Hey, wait up!" Flack jogged toward her. His long strides easily caught up with hers in a matter of seconds. "I said sorry, didn't I? And it wasn't completely my fault, I mean, I wasn't the one running as if her life depended on it."

"Excuse me?" They had entered the co-ed locker rooms. The rookie was stripping off her sweater to reveal a black tank top but paused to give him an incredulous look, as if she couldn't believe they were both descended from the same evolutionary food chain. "My fault? Who was the one who wasn't looking where they were going because they were too busy reading in the middle of the goddamn street?"

Now he was starting to get mad. "Hey, plenty of New Yorkers do that every day but at least people have the decent courtesy to walk _around_ them." He drew a circle with his hands to illustrate his point, which made her eyes flash even more.

"Decent courtesy would have been not spoiling their chances to make a good first impression on their boss," the fiery brunette retorted, pulling out a leather jacket from her bag to wear.

"Listen, if you need to make a good first impression, just tell him that Don Flack is your friend." He took a step back and flashed her another charming grin, in the feeble hope that it would work on her. Same deadpan results.

"Tell me something, Flack," she started, pulling the sleeves over her arms and flipping her hair out from under the collar.

"Anything you want, Prescott. I've got no secrets." Lily raised a dubious eyebrow. That's impossible, she thought, everyone's got something to hide. Her being no exception.

She stuffed her ruined shirt into her bag, asking, "What happened to your old partner?"

"Never really had one," came his prompt response.

Lily gave him an incredulous look. "You've been flyin' solo this whole time?"

"Seems the winning personality is just too much for some people." Flack answered solemnly, as he leaned against the lockers, looking straight at her.

"Could be the hair gel." A small smile tugged on the corner of her lips but she refused to give in.

"Doubt it." That caused the tiny quirk of her lips to blossom into a full out grin.

They left the locker rooms, both heading for the elevators stationed at the end of the precinct. Flack jabbed the button and the door pinged open. They opened again on the 35th floor, revealing the lab techs running around with files tucked underneath their arms, the GC/MS beeping and screening printouts, the sound of shots firing in a Ballistics reconstruction, test tubes containing DNA evidence were laid out on the counter, ready for analysis, and certain detectives hunched over a microscope or bouncing theories off of each other – the very sight of the NYPD Crime Lab was intimidating, at the very least.

"Damn, it's chaos here." Lily murmured in surprise.

"Controlled chaos." Flack corrected, giving the new detective a cheeky look. "Don't worry. This place will be your second home."

Lily cleared her throat, suddenly feeling unaccustomed to asking for help. "So where is, uh, Detective Taylor's office?"

"Straight ahead and take a left. I'll escort you." Such a gentleman.

"You don't have to." Lily said quickly.

"Why, Detective Prescott, are you trying to get rid of me?" He asked with a wide-eyed, innocent look. She fought back a grin.

"You see right through me," she joked. "But, really, don't you have places to be?"

Flack shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Nah, not yet. It's been a slow day and I might as well show the newbie around."

She elbowed him. Hard. "Don't call me a newbie."

"Shorty?"

"No."

"Rookie?"

"Absolutely not."

"How about –"

"I have a name, you know." She interrupted.

"And your point is?" She rolled her eyes, an expression of annoyance with the slightest hint of amusement on her delicate features, secretly enjoying their back and forth banter. She wondered if he knew about her past, about her father. Or if he had been ordered to be this nice to her.

They reached their destination. A straight-backed, older man was seated in a leather chair, frowning slightly at a piece of paper held in his hand. Close cropped hair and his air of quiet austerity suggested a man of few words but a rigid set of morals. Flack opened the door first and popped his head in.

"Hey, Mac. The newbie's here." That earned him another elbow jab.

"Bring her in." Mac said without looking up.

"Good luck. He can smell fear," Flack whispered before she slipped in. Lily stood there, hands clasped in front of her, wondering whether she should sit or stand. He settled it for her.

"Sit." He nodded toward the chairs placed in front of his dark stained desk and smiled pleasantly at her. "I'm Mac Taylor."

"Pleasure, Detective Taylor." Lily felt her palms beginning to sweat. Secretly, she was surprised at his firm but easy going nature. She had expected something more…. federal.

"Please, call me Mac." The man in question sat behind his desk and pulled out a box containing a badge, gun, and a sheaf of papers. "Here's your stuff. Just sign your initials at the bottom of these papers and then we'll go introduce you to the rest of the team. Sound good?"

"Sounds great." Lily skimmed the papers and scrawled her initials with practiced ease, finishing the last signature with a flourish. "All done."

"That was quick." Mac stood up, following her to the door. "Oh, and one more thing."

She turned around, ready for the other shoe to drop, preparing herself for a sudden onslaught of questions inquiring about her criminal father. Instead she received a friendly smile and a pleasant,

"Welcome to the Crime Lab."

* * *

Pretty slow, I know. But it'll get better. Reviews make my day. Jus' sayin'.


	2. Chapter 2

By some indisputable Murphy's Law, Lily Prescott knew she was absolutely incapable of setting a good first impression. And she _needed_ to make a good impression, if only for today. Because the NYPD already had an edge on her, an edge that made her nervous as hell.

She wondered why Mac hadn't asked any questions about her father, Emery Prescott, the sniper. She wondered why no officer had given her a funny look, why no whispered snide comments had been made, why Don Flack had been so _damn_ nice to her when, surely, she didn't deserve it.

After all, Emery Prescott had been a huge target for the NYPD. He had been arrested in a deserted warehouse in the Bronx, wounding five officers and killing two. If her memory served correctly, it had been Mac Taylor himself who had personally put the cuffs on her father. She didn't hold any grudges against Mac – it's not like she and her father had been the typical father-daughter duo – but surely, he did, didn't he?

Maybe, a small voice whispered in her head, they don't care about your history. Maybe, they're just interested in Lily Prescott, CSI, not Lily Prescott, daughter of one of NYPD's biggest enemies in history. Or maybe, a far more logical voice said in her head, the others don't know yet. Yeah, that one was probably true. She could believe that Mac didn't care about her past, but Flack and the others? They probably just didn't realize it yet.

Her palms were damp, still clamped to her side, and her teeth launched an unconscious assault on her bottom lip. Which was why she was just a little bit anxious at the thought of meeting her new co-workers. No, scratch that. _Very_ anxious.

"Yo, Flack!" Don doubled back to see Danny waving him over from the break room, the Staten Island detective looking torn between curiosity and nonchalance.

"What's up, Danno?" Flack asked, raising his eyebrows at Danny craning his head trying to see into Mac's office. Benefits of having glass walls.

"Who's the new girl?"

"Lily Prescott, transfer from LAPD." Flack replied. "She's supposed to be good."

"Did you say Prescott?" asked Aiden, who had just walked into the break room to catch the last part of his sentence. The brunette beauty walked to the fridge and grabbed the unhealthiest, sugariest, most caffeinated drink she could find and took a long swallow. "Like Emery Prescott?"

"Who?" Danny asked, confused.

Flack, who had been rendered speechless by Aiden's comment, finally found his voice to answer. "Emery Prescott. Hitman. Doing a lifer in Rikers." His mind was whirring. He had never made the connection. Lily hadn't told him that. But then again, he couldn't have expected her entire life story in the grand total of ten minutes they had chatted. Doesn't matter, he decided firmly in that instant. He didn't a damn about her father if it meant he could get to know Lily better.

"So Lily is his daughter?" Aiden clarified, taking another swig from her drink and making a loud smacking sound with her lips. "Well, that explains why Sinclair dropped by this morning…"

"What? Sinclair dropped -" Danny started to say but was interrupted by a quiet _ahem_ from the doorway. All three of them turned, slowly, to see Mac looking sufficiently irritated to make them suddenly develop an interest in their shoes.

"Don't let me interrupt you. What were you saying about Lily?" Mac asked dryly.

Flack slowly lifted his head, guilt etched on his face. Aiden was picking at the cap of her drink with her fingernail, shame blushing on her cheeks while Danny's expression resembled a small boy having been caught stealing a cookie before dinner.

Mac narrowed his eyes at them, evidently deciding that a good telling off would suffice as a decent punishment instead of the typical desk duty. "Listen. I'm not gonna deny who Lily's father is because it's true – her father really is Emery Prescott. But I don't care if Lily is the daughter of Attila the Hun, we will treat her with the respect and kindness she deserves, understand?"

"Yes, Mac", "Got it" and "Sorry, Mac" echoed the room. Flack picked his fingernails and hoped to god no one would tell this incident to Lily. He was guessing she had enough on her plate, as it is. No need to add office gossip to it.

"Where is Prescott, anyway?" Flack asked, hoping to diffuse the tension on Mac's face.

"She's talking to Stella but she should be here any moment." Mac replied. As if on cue, the familiar lithe figure of Lily came into view, accompanied by a smiling Stella.

"Hey, Mac." Stella said cheerfully, brushing a lock of her wild curls behind her ear.

"Stella. Have you shown Lily around?"

"Yep. Lily, have you met Aiden Burn, Danny Messer and Don Flack?" Stella, with the air of a proud parent, introduced the three detectives as one by one, they smiled and nodded hello.

The freshly sworn in detective greeted her new coworkers. "Nice to meet you."

The sandy haired detective grinned at her; his voice was dripping with Staten Island graffitti. "How ya doin'? I'm Danny. If you need any help on procedure, just yell my name."

Another detective stepped up. She had chocolate brown locks, shadowy eyes and bee stung lips. "Aiden Burn. Pleasure to meet you. And don't ask Danny for any help. Chances are, he'll just trick you into some hazing ceremony." Aiden smirked as Danny huffed behind her. Lily smiled at the two; they must've been partners for some time now based on the ease in which they communicated. She wondered if Flack and her could ever become such good friends.

Then, as if on cue, a familiar blue-eyed detective came up. "Don Flack. Nice to have a formal introduction." Flack grinned as she smiled back wryly, glancing down at her not-coffee-stained shirt.

A quiet series of beeps interrupted the introductions. It was Mac's pager. "Dispatch. DOA on Lex and 54th." Mac nodded toward Stella. "Stella, why don't you take this one, and bring Lily with you."

Lily's eyes lighted up. Nothing like a dead body to make your day.

"Great. This is your first case as an NYPD detective." Stella winked at her. "It's an exciting moment."

"Exciting thing, my ass." Danny snorted. "My first case was the regular Jack-shot-Bill-over-Jill. Nothin' exciting 'bout it."

"Please," Aiden scoffed. "You think you had it bad? On my first case, I managed to trip going _up_ the stairs. Evidence bags were flying _everywhere_."

Adam walked into the room, overhearing the Aiden's comment. "I remember my first case. I blew up part of the lab and got sent home with a perforated ear drum and no eyebrows," he snorted with laugher as Mac rolled his eyes with amusement.

"During my first case, I mixed up DNA results. We arrested the right guy for an entirely different case." Stella laughed. Everyone chortled, exchanging grins as they remembered _their_ first cases.

The Greek detective turned to Mac, an amused expression gracing her features. "What happened on your first case, Mac?" The laughter immediately quieted down and they all turned to look questions at the man in question.

Mac hesitated, then finally relented, a small grin tugging at his mouth. "I'd rather not say, but I will tell you that it involved magic tricks, a strange experiment done with spaghetti, an impromptu explosion and a very angry Sinclair." Every tried to contain their laughter as they just imagined the picture Mac conjured.

"All right, enough reminiscing. We've got a crime scene waiting for us." Stella reprimanded the others, a smile still playing on her lips.

"Flack, you go with Stella and Lily." Mac said. "Danny and Aiden, where are you on the Martinez case?"

The body was tucked away in an alley, its back propped up by a rusty Dumpster. The victim was female, blood matting her blonde hair, her blue eyes wide and glazed over. She was dressed in gray slacks and a blue blouse that looked too expensive to be just cotton. Her leather boots were scuffed.

Stella and Lily ducked underneath the crime scene tape, clutching kits and cameras while Flack began questioning the witnesses. It was your typical crime scene. Uniforms on the perimeter. ME van parked out front. Mesmerized onlookers. Hysterical family. Bit of press. Annoyed cops. The usual.

Flack came over, his black notebook already in hand. "Jane Doe for now. Vic is missing her purse and her cellphone."

"And a pulse," Lily quipped. Flack nodded appreciatively at her, eyes twinkling.

"Who discovered the body?" Stella asked, eyeing the crowd of witnesses before her.

Flack jerked a thumb toward a lady in Nikes and a tank top. "Jogger stopped to catch her breath, suddenly sees a pair of legs half hidden behind the Dumpster. Ruined her training for the New York Marathon," he added with no small amount of sarcasm.

Stella turned toward the newest detective. "What do you think, kiddo?"

She knelt near the body, lips pursed in concentration. "No bullet wounds. No stab wounds. No ligature marks. No sign of sexual assault. Nothing's off except for this injection mark. It's right over the carotid artery. Could be COD." The brunette detective pushed back the vic's flaxen hair to reveal a small mark on her neck.

Stella squatted down next to her, looking impressed. Lily may be a newbie, but that didn't mean she didn't know her stuff. "The mark is from a syringe. Nice job."

Lily nodded at the compliment, smiling slightly, and focused on the task on hand. She gripped a Nikon camera and started snapping pictures, taking in all angles of the body. Steady hands. Good shots. She was focusing so hard on her task she almost didn't hear Stella and Flack conversing behind her.

". . . do you think of Lily?" Flack was asking Stella, his voice low.

She could just feel the weight of their gazes on her back. Snap.

"Well, I think she has a lot of potential. Good at her job, too. You?" Lily flushed with victory. Snap. Snap.

"Same. She's tough, smart. Hot as hell, too." Flack added. Stella snorted with derision and mumbled something that suspiciously sounded like _men_.

* * *

The beginning chapters are supposed to build some background so please tell me what you think! This is my first fic I'm planning to have more than ten chapters. It'll probably be closer to twenty. But I'm a huge commitment phobic. There are stories that I'll just suddenly drop because I've lost interest in it. I'm hoping this won't happen with this one...


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